


A Reason To Stay.

by Naidriku



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Actually starts canon and then it drifts, And goes right after the 6 years time jump, Daryl definitely needs a hug, F/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Non Canon plot, Pinky promise, Platonic Bethyl, Reunion, Sets in season 4, angsty, but also quite fluffy?, kind of friends but really there’s obviously more to it, when does he not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naidriku/pseuds/Naidriku
Summary: When Carol gets banished from the prison, Daryl swears that all he could see around the corners were the ghost of her. Never ever again does he hear about the woman illuminating the cracks of his broken mind.He never sees her again.Until he does.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	A Reason To Stay.

Daryl spun and spun like a caged animal in his cell, his lips biting down on his lower lip, ripping off some tiny pieces of dry skin as he stared down at the stone ground, holding back a kick directed right towards the thin mattress laying there. He felt like the whole damn world had now stopped fucking rotating and the only way to get shit straight and clear through his mind was by keeping on walking around. Hell, he had no idea what was holding him back from grabbing his beloved crossbow and getting the hell out of there to go and search for her. Maybe if Rick had been a tiny bit more comprehensive, thoughtful and responsible, he would've realized that she never meant anything wrong. The man chuckled darkly at that thought. Damn hypocritical. As if he would be a better leader than officer friendly was for that whole, extended weird family. Even if some of the shit he did was beyond understanding, the redneck knew that all of it was for their protection and safety, even if he wasn't able to unknot the tangled wires of his mind for the moment.

She was strong. He knew it. He probably was the only damn one who was certain of that fact. She was stronger than most of the men hanging out there, stumbling down the prison's halls to give a hand with vegetables and light tasks; he knew it because she was still there, after having arose like a vivid flame, despite everything that she went through. There was something dancing in that woman and he was unable to put his finger on it, but he had no doubt that she would be able to survive out there, without any troubles.

Yet, he bit his nails to the blood as he crouched to sit down on his mattress, elbows over his knees as he burried his head in his hands. Daryl wasn't much one for meditation, and whenever he was pissed off.. It took a lot of his almost unexistant self control not to step towards Rick and break his nose. It wouldn't solve shit, but maybe it would help him feel the slightest better about the situation. Or knock some sense into the man. How was he able to just drop one of theirs for the sake of those ignorant citizens they hadn't even known for a year? Wasn't he the one always insisting about all his " big family " crap? If so, how could he just abandon her like that? In the middle of an unknown town? For all he'd known, a herd might have been coming and there she was, stuck in the crowd, fighting the best she could to get her ass out of there. 

Maybe she had been bit.

The possibility crossed his mind and froze his blood, his body tensing while he thought about it. Bit and laying there on the road, praying for someone to come and help her, or at least end her suffering? Daryl let out a thick sigh as he massaged his temples, not holding back a low grumble as he tried not to be so damn pessimistic. But what if he would never be able to say goodbye? Tell her that he was proud of her and what she had become, thank her for the man she saw within him? What if the last damn thing he'd told her was something amongst the lines of " See ya later "? What if that salute just hung in time, floating right under his nose every day to remind him how quick she had left his side, like every damn body else? 

It felt like it had been years since Dixon hadn't felt such a shiver run down his spine, alerting his senses as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. It wasn't the usual adrenaline that shook him whole whenever one of those disgusting things approached him, or the anger that made his fists clench whenever Rick or anyone did or said something ridiculously stupid. 

It was fear. Fuck, he was straight up terrified; and his mind wandering places around Carol, surrounded by all of those things and desperately looking around for help, missing her shoot and widening her big blue eyes as one of their rotten hands grabbed her shoulder to dig their dirty teeth in the crook of her pale neck, ripping her tee-shirt to fill their mouths up with her guts. Blood filled his vision of horror as he tried to kick some sense into his own self, shaking his head in negation. No. She would make it. He trusted her. 

But even if she did..Would he ever see her again? Feel a bit of her comforting warmth beside him, in front of the campfire, surrounded by a calming silence as she allowed her head to rest over his tough shoulder? Hear her strict voice relax at another one of her regular teasings, her pointy, skinny elbow dipping into his sides? An almost melodic giggle accompanying Beth's excited voice, blabbering on and on about some old family memories? What if he never did? What if the survivor would just have to erase her off his existence as if she was never there, as if she never taught him her wise lessons, as if she didn't make the good man in him pierce and shine? Would Daryl have to live with the ghost of her, glaring down at her regular, empty cup of coffee laying on one of the old tables, staring at the cheesy novels resting next to her bed, smoke down each and every of her cigarettes until everything that was left were skeletons, ashes of a mind he'd crossed and admired?

He breathed out heavily as he grabbed his pack for a smoke, bringing the stick to his lips, his fingers shamelessly shaking. Fucking anxiety. Crazily easy to trigger, no matter how bad he tried to put it in the background, lock it in a safe and place it in a corner of his memory, he found himself sweating bullets, hardly swallowing his saliva as he sensed some panic heaving his chest and unregulating his breath. Dixon didn't believe in all of their " heavy breathing in and out " bullshit, so he just took a drag of tobacco and hoped for the best as he tried to clear his mind, looking around the room to search for something, anything that might distract him off those sinister hypothesis. 

At night, he didn't join the rest of them for dinner. 

His sleep has been shaken with nightmares, different from the ones who usually tortured his subconscious. Instead of gaping at his father's traits, deformed by anger and flinching at the sounds of leather hitting abruptly fresh skin, he dreamt of a thin silhouette staring at the sky, letting herself die in the middle of overly-perfect sour apple green grass as the bite mark on her hip bled out and painted it a peculiar shade of khaki. 

Daryl had no idea which one he preferred seeing in his nights. And after waking up in the middle of the night, unable to go back to sleep after hearing her voice resonating through his brain, calling and crying out for him, reaching for a hand she'd never grab, the redneck got back on his feet, grabbed his crossbow and patted Rick's shoulder, who was on guard, to indicate him that he'd take the shift. The leader thanked him with a small nod, apparently full of hesitation as he gave the hunter a shared look.

" I'm sorry. About Carol. But believe it, she's gonna make it. I'd put my hand into fire that she'll eventually trace us back later on. " Rick declared as the Dixon brother rested his body against the barrier separating them from the void, the control tower giving them way enough height to get a clear view of their nocturnal horizons.

He shrugged his shoulders, burrying his hands in the pockets of his khakis, nibbling down on his lower lip as he stepped back to rest against the wall. The cold stone made him shiver as it entered in contact with his burning nape, still shaken by his terrors. " Keep ya damn apologises. You get your opinion on that and I get mine. Don't agree with ya, but what can I say? Blood's on your consciousness, not mine.". Daryl had learned to live along and even appreciate and befriend the ex police officer, but he had difficulties accepting the choice he had taken a couple of hours before. And even if he didn't want to put any guilt on him, it was printed all over Rick's face.

" She burned two of our own, Daryl. Without any form of pity or anything. Just straight up let them out there resting in the sun, roasted like two damn whole turkeys on a Thanksgiving dinner. I can't let someone like that hang out with the rest of us. Who knows what she'd do next?" He commented as he looked afar, at the connection between the horizon and the trees. 

" Probably shit you and I don't have the balls to do. She acted." Daryl defended as he threw a defensive glare towards the man, his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated expression. " She fucking acted while you were out there planting vegetables or growing flowers or whatever the fuck you do out there for the whole afternoon."

Grimes didn't deepen the conversation. He knew that it was useless; and he hated that part of Daryl's answer was correct. But what could he do? Things were done. No matter how badly he'd criticise him, it wouldn't get him Carol back. But Rick understood and was persuaded that the best way to cooperate on this was to stay positive and try not to take too personal some of the redneck's rage. " That didn't give her an excuse to burn those people. Hell, if Tyreeze ever learned about that-"

"Then what? He'd kill her? He won't ever see her again, so even if he knew, would be damn useless to tell him. Wouldn't have let him approach her in anyways. That girl would've died, no matter if Carol took care of it or not. Herschel told you her fever was too high for her to survive it, and yet, y'all let her wander down the halls as if she didn't carry death on her shoulders or shit. Carol did what she thought was right and I can't tell if I wouldn't have done the exact same shit." He continued, the tone of his voice acid, poisonous as he held an accusatory finger towards the leader, his jaw clenched by his own words.

Rick simply nodded, awkwardly staring down at his feet, simply out of arguments. And he felt way too tired to argue this out. He did what he had to do, for everyone's wellbeing. For the safety of his family. A family that was now missing a member. The man gritted his teeth into a grimace at that suggestion as he approached quietly the survivor, digging a fine watch out of his pockets before handing it out at him.

"She told me to take care of it. Until we met again. Said it was Ed's first and only gift, and since I gave off my watch to some kid that's probably dead.. Well. But I don't think I should be the one guarding over it. That item holds feelings. And they're definitely more special towards you than me." The leader indicated as he slid the fine, thin watch into Daryl's callused hand, his finger wrapping around it softly to turn the item around, examining it under his azure gaze.

" Wonderin' why she still holdin' on that. I shouldve killed that son'f'a bitch. Deserved to die slow." Daryl commented as he ran his thumb over the glass of the accessory, a small pinch piquing his heart as he put it in his pocket. " You shouldn't've done that, Rick.We never know what's out there. She a damn tsunami but some shit can't be survived."

" She'll be fine. I know you cared about her. I'm sorry. It just had to be done, before someone else learnt about it and tried to get revenge." The officer stated as he patted Dixon's shoulder, giving him a sorry smile. As if it pleased him to kick her out like that. He surely hadn't done it for his pleasure. It was a sacrifice that had to be done.

Daryl stood silent, tensing up at the contact, holding back a flinch as his fingers hit his shirt. He shook his head while sitting down on the lawn chair installed there, staring vaguely at the sky empty of any star, his mind wandering in unknown territories. It stung like a bitch to know that she was gone, just like that. It was like tearing a tiny part off him and throwing in into fire. He had let some his goddamn guard down towards her, showed some sides he'd been concealing for years, told her more about him than he'd ever told to his own brother. Pushed her upwards and watched her evolve, toughen, grow. Lay her finger on the trigger and not hesitate to pull on it. Forgive and forget. Tear apart, shatter to pieces and desperately try to glue them back up together, holding on the sake of her humanity, let go of who she was to be who she is. Tell him to go to hell and tell him that she'd never make it without him. 

Rick turned to get out of the tiny balcony, getting back in the tower to rush down the stairs, joining what was left of his family inside of the prison. He threw a concerned look at the hunter, the outline of his figure completely still on the chair, weapon resting on his lap. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. The deputy felt like he was creating mistakes after mistakes. All of his choices felt like they ended up hurting someone; he could just decide who he'd harm. Either did he take the risk to hurt the rest of his people, or impact close friends. It seemed like he picked number over feelings. He could only do what's fair, in the end.

Daryl stares afar for the rest of the night, and tomorrow's, and the whole week's, feeling his growing slightly weak at the fatigue, eyes bloodshot from the lack of rest. If he could, he'd avoid them a fucked up sleep schedule, and he would be lying if he wasn't hoping for a sign, any sign, every day, in the middle of the night's dark skies.

He never sees her again.

Until he does.

He's older now, alone, laying down on the grass beside a small pond of clear water, staring up at the clear sky. He has no idea what time it is, where he is, what he's doing and what he's going to do. All he knew was that he was by himself. That he'd lost them all. He's starving, thirsty to death, defeated under the heavy heat of the sun, left all fucking alone again. How he had started and how he'd end. Was that how he was going to die? After losing Rick in the battle, Michonne and Maggie following? After having seen them perish under the hungry creatures, shot each and every single one of them, after all those months and moments spent together, the bonds they created, the trust he put in them? Was it how it all had to come to an end? Merciless of everything he had created with them, only on the strength of his bare hands and the cage he used to surround and protect his heart? All the fights they put up and the struggles they encountered, the battles they won and the wounds they healed, that's how Daryl Dixon would die ? Out of dehydration, under that damn sun, all alone, thinking back about all the shit he should and shouldn't have done?

He morbidly chuckled at that thought, shutting his eyes closed. Maybe that's how shit was meant to be. He didn't have the strength to fight anymore. He wasn't worth fighting for. He didn't want to save himself. He didn't want to make it through only for the sake of surviving. If he couldn't feel shit anymore, he'd rather end it. It would just be reporting the date to another day again and again, and deepen his regrets and remorses while he hunts, fishes or tries to stay awake in the middle of the night. 

No. Maybe it was for the best. He couldn't believe that he'd spent the best moments of his life when the world was crumbling down. He'd seen tough shit but he'd seen things he had never seen before. Daryl had witnessed deaths and numerous grieves, but he'd seen love. Hope. There was no civilization, no humanity left and yet, they prayed and loved as if there was no tomorrow, promised things they'd never be able to guarantee, made love and kids, fought for their own. The few ones left lived. They didn't survive or try to make it. They lived and enjoyed their existences. Just like he had for the last ten years. 

Some said you could see your life flash beneath your eyes or shit like that before you died, but Daryl didn't see shit. He breathed peacefully and oh boy, that was going to be slow and he should probably just end it all himself. But he didn't have the courage it took; he'd tried sooner and he'd failed. He wasn't even strong enough anymore to reach for one of his arrows and somehow stab himself with it or something as such. He was just..There. God, his father would've killed him. His brother would've called him a goddamn coward until he breathed his last breath. He, himself, a couple of years sooner, would've been the first to shake himself out of it. But things had changed. The hunter was far away from being who he used to be and he didn't even want to think about the people who shared his blood. 

Somehow, he sees Beth Greene. She's there, a couple of centimetres away, her expression crunched into one of pure concentration as she slides some daisies in a flower crown, her boots resting on the dirt nearby. She's humming one of his father's old tunes, her delicate, golden hair framing her fragile visage, pale eyes staring down at her activity. An old flannel shirt covers her chest and her jeans seem two sizes too large as she changes her position to turn towards him, finally meeting his confused gaze. The effects of dehydration had to be coming. It was starting to kick in.

" What ya doin' there?" He questions, or he thinks he does. Daryl doesn't even know if his mouth is moving anymore. He hears himself, but nothing's very clear. Her crystalline voice floats in the air to reply as she knotted down another flower to her creation. It's like a damn angel and he wonders what the fuck is happening, and the part of him still slightly alive reasons him into thinking that it was normal. 

" Crown. My mom used to do a lot of those for the Easter celebrations. " She tells him nonchalantly as she plants her eyes in his, a sympathizing smile on her thin lips as she holds her hand over her eyes to protect them from the strong shining of the sun. " I didn't expect you to be here quite yet.. But I also kinda waited for you. I'm glad you're here. Did you miss me? "

What was the appropriate answer to that? Of course he did. Her death affected him terribly and he did have some trouble getting back on his feet afterwise. He'd promised he'd watch over her, he'd protect her like his own daughter, like a goddamn niece. He'd swore he wouldn't let it go as things happened with Sophia. Opened his heart up to the kid. He couldn't just get over it so easily. No matter how many people died… You never seemed to get used to it. "Not really." He forces a teasing smile, one of his rare ones and she laughs along. Something feels terribly wrong and Dixon doesn't get to put his finger on it. " Felt weird without'cha. Your sis got a kid. Would've been an aunty."

Beth shrugs her shoulder and smiles peacefully, letting her flower assemblage rest over her platinum hair, fitting perfectly the small circumference of her head. She plays with two wavy strands of hair as she looks around quietly. " I know.. She was always stronger. My father would've been so proud of her." 

Daryl nods, crossing his arms under his hands as he closed his eyes again. Her soft voice resonates like some vague echo, through waves and it's like they're back at the cabin, drunk off their ass, gulping down disgusting homemade crap. " You were a toughie, kid. Dont'cha think otherwise. Died a goddamn hero. At first, I was so damn pissed at you for doing that. Learned to respect your final wishes. And I'm taking a guess that you've had that in mind for a while."

Another small laugh escapes her mouth as she crouches down next to him, pushing some of his sweaty hair off his vision, the hunter flinching at the contact, a spike of panic squeezing his chest. He turns vividly his head as she backed her hand, as if she'd just dipped her finger into fire. "Sorry. I had forgotten about that. And-".

Beth stands silent, looking right at an invisible spot, completely still and Daryl prays for his weird hallucinations not to go down into crazy shit. But instead of that, she grins gently and gives him a small, confident nod, pushing on her legs to get back up. " It isn't your time yet, Daryl. Seems like she's coming. It was good seeing you.. I'll be waiting, but take your time, alright?" 

He blabbers out a couple of confused questions and a second later, she's gone, fading in the air like thin particles, simply snapping out of the decor. Dixon jumps and he gasps his surprise as he opens his eyes wide, instantly shutting them after being blinded by the sun, hearing a couple of hurried steps approaching him. Shit. Even now, they couldn't let him just conclude his decision?

" Oh my- Holy shit, pass me the water!" A feminine voice orders, her voice soft yet firm. It seems like it's coming from miles away but Daryl could swear that she's just there, behind the bushes or the trees surrounding him. He finds himself calling out for Beth a couple of times, but only the sound of the incoming steps answer him, and his voice dies in his throat as he breaks into a fit of dry cough, tears dwelling up at the corner of his eyes. His body folds against himself as he coughs it out, feeling as if he had just swallowed something too thick, strangulating as if it couldn't get it the hell out of there. Asphyxiation was not an option. Way too painful. Daryl was trying to get what was left of his mind to think straight when he felt a presence install himself beside him, waiting until the cough paused to pour a generous amount of water into his mouth. His reflexes were definitely sharp enough to gulp it all, feeling some abnormal symptoms coming through, as if some parts of his body were coming back to life. His vision wasn't clear enough to understand what was going on, but he could easily discern a pair of piercing blue eyes that he'd only seen on a single person throughout his entire life. 

Daryl tried to formulate an interrogation, to move the slightest, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a shaky breath, his eyelids suddenly heaving and closing down over his azure gaze. A desperate voice called out for his name a couple of time and shook his body energetically, before everything went black; finally, he felt like he could rest.

The hunter woke up in a violent jump, his breath short and irregular as he threw panicked looks around him. The vision of a dark tent's roof was the first element that was offered to his vision and even if darkness was mostly installed around, lit up by a couple of candles, the faint light blinded his eyes, shutting them close again instantly. It took him a couple of minutes to get used to it and a couple more to wonder what the hell was going on. Daryl remembered passing out on his fortune camp, hoping for the best, and even communicating with Beth somehow. But walking his ass out to a strange and unknown camp? He was sure that back then, he certainly didn't have the strength to do that. He hasn't eaten for days and his body had been screaming for water for a couple of hours; Dixon was pretty sure that it would've been impossible for him to circulate around in that estate.

The man grumbled as he tried to turn on his side in order to get a better sight of his surrounding. It felt like his sides lit on fire instantly whenever he moved the smaller inch, making him grimace in pain, a rough growl escaping his chapped lips. His hands clutched down on the sheets beneath him and he had to breath heavily in order not to fall in a severe panic attack. He wasn't in control anymore. Daryl had been almost self-dependant for years, had learned to live in society but knew that he would always be able to rely on himself. Finding himself trapped, aching from head to toe in an unknown damn tent, and unable to get the hell out of there certainly was out of his control zone.

It seemed like his prayers for information had been heard, since a silhouette entered the tent. It's background was dark and he deducted that it was night time outside. Daryl considered pretending that he was asleep again, but what for? He needed to understand whatever was happening to him. Even if it meant trying to intimidate someone while being stuck in a fortune bed. Squinting his eyes to get a better look at whoever was coming at him, surprise filled him whole, a heavy knot forming in his throat, filling him whole with emotion. No, Daryl hadn't imagined those big, unique blue eyes, mixed between rainy skies and clear water. Her soft traits were framed by long, silver hair, falling down to the hollows of her neckbones and delicately running down her torso. Carol gave him a tender smile, like the reassuring ones she'd give him whenever he came back to camp empty handed after hunting hours. Yet, there was no compassion in her eyes, flooded by a thin layer of fresh tears, and they curiously looked like happy ones. 

The hunter reached out to her, just to check, because he would be cruelly disappointed if she was another illusion, just like Beth. But the fabric of her shirt under her leather armor took his breath away and he felt his own tears dwelling at the corner of his eyes. Hell, everyone knew that Daryl Dixon wasn't one to show his feelings easily. But if he was standing, he would've dropped down to his knees under the shock.

" I thought I had lost you. You were so.. You seemed.." The woman shook her head and let out a light sigh as her eyes bat, allowing her tears to roll down her fatigued cheeks as she softly slid her fingers through his, intertwining their hands and giving his a light squeeze. " How are you feeling? " Carol questioned, concern painted all over her traits.

" Don' really know. " Daryl muttered as he grimaced, lifting his free hand to wipe his eyes vividly. He felt like he hadn't smiled in years and even if the corners of his lips weren't stretched into a big grin, his face was transparent of the joy filling him from head to toe. Flinching at the contact of her cold hand, the man squeezed her slim, pianist fingers into his, toughened by time and battles, before proceeding to formulate a sentence. "I thought you were dead. All this time, I thought I'd never see you again. It's goddamn' crazy."

Carol cracks an honest chuckle, a crystalline laugh lightening up the whole tent and his heart feels like it skips too much beats to still be healthy. She was filling the cracks in his heart with the light that comes from an angelic presence, a couple of happy tears crashing down on their intertwined hand, and he holds back an idiotic smile because God, he could've died a couple of days before, he had lost so much,and he hadn't heard or seen joy in what seemed like years and that woman was right there, taking his return as a blessing. She was radiating good vibes and he swore that he had never seen her like that back in the days.

" You're right. It is crazy. I didn't expect to find you torn between life and death, and especially not after more than seven years of absence. Quite a significant coincidence, right?" She murmurs, a closed grin stretching her pale lips and god, his sides and the three quarters of his bones and muscles are aching but she chases the pain away with a couple of words and some positivity. Daryl doesn't quite get her last questioning and he doesn't feel like digging in deeper right now. His head is spinning and he isn't thinking straight and he wished he could break her bones with such a tight embrace that she'd beg him to let go. How could he ever doubt her? Doubt the fever, the fire, the flame that burnt in her chest, that thing that made her more of a survivor than half of the group? The determination and the hopes that she kept up despite seeing everyone and everything tumbling down? The things she did for the ones she loved and cared about?

Carol didn't need protection, like half of the men of the group used to think. She was stronger than most, including him and the proof of it was right before his eyes; she had saved his life. And for a moment it seems like Daryl forgets about Rick, and Maggie and Michonne and everyone that was lost in the fight; he allows himself to be a little selfish, to suck in her presence and enjoy the euphoria of meeting that stray of lightning after having burried her in the cemetery of his brains, to live for someone and not to be there for the sake of it.

" Don't believe in coincidences. It's a goddamn miracle. Where the hell are we even?" He questions as it seems like he returns to reality, and yet, Carol doesn't move an inch and her thumb draws unconsciously circles on the back of his callused hand, looking away for a second, running her icy gaze all over the tiny room. It seems like she's trying to gather up a ton of information to explain it short and clear, but she stumbles upon her words a couple of times before exposing the situation.

" At the medical tent of a community. It's called the Kingdom; a couple of hours of road from where we picked you up. It's uhm.. Quite...Special, let's say." She seems to grimace a little bit and Daryl's eyebrows furrow under his fringe, confusion all over his face, not visibly much reassured. The woman let out another short giggle and it sends another shooting star in his chest, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. " Their leader is like.. Weird. Don't think you'll like him, but he's kept me alive, and fed me, and given me a roof. And he also owns a tiger."

Daryl snorts as he raises his empty hand to rub his temples, as if all of that already made his head ache. " Okay, you gotta repeat that last sentence 'cause I don' know how much pills they gave me and-" "He owns a tiger. An actual tiger, Daryl. And it's even civilized. And everybody calls him "The King" ". The hunter rolls his eyes discreetly and gives her a look full of mixed feelings. It seemed like it doesn't take too long for her to understand it, since she returned him a shrug of her tiny shoulders.

" He isn't that bad. I promise. " Her hand drifts to give his shoulder a light squeeze and he flinches. Daryl knew that he had completely forgotten what human presence was, and it seemed like he hadn't received any physical contact in years; his freezing is almost inevitable and yet, he almost instantly misses it when she takes her palm off the surface of exposed skin. The man grumbled, furrowing his eyebrows as he took in the fresh wave of indications that she gave him, a flash of concern crossing his sapphire gaze. 

"Feeds you an' everything without asking for anythin in return? Weird. Probably trynna get in ya pants." The hunter warned with a scoff, chewing down on his bottom lip and instantly regretting it when he felt the slight pain of a wound opening on it, the taste of blood making him cringe silently. Carol shakes her head in negation and crosses her arms across her chest strictly after chasing the last crystal tears strolling down her cheeks.

" He won't. What matters is, you're with us now. With me. And I'm not letting go, this time . They can drop me in a city thousand of miles away and I'd come back running, Daryl. I'm here, now." 

It's a statement and the promise makes him nod. She better be. He wouldn't let go of her, in anyways. Not after all the nights full of mental torture about whether she made it or not, and if so, if she was happy or safe. Not after all the time regretting and having great remorses. Not after having lost everyone else and having to fight his lonely shadow in front of the bonfire every evening. He wouldn't allow anyone to leave his sides anymore, and she'd drag him down in her fall if the day had to come. Carol hadn't asked a single interrogation concerning the rest of the group and he was glad that she didn't. She was clever enough to know that he would've never solo-ed away from them if there wasn't a reason to it. And it clearly wasn't the time to remind him of all the shit that stood beside the bubble containing their tearful reunion. Heck, it was already hard enough not to break in happy sobs whenever he looked at that smile that was probably brighter than the fucking sun, if anyone would remind him of the ghosts he held with him and the responsibilities he'd have to live with, Daryl would lose it. 

" Y' promise? Won't take the first occasion to get the hell away and never come back, like you did when Rick sent you away?"

"Daryl-"

" Do you promise, Carol?" 

Her eyes are tender and she doesn't hesitate much before nodding her chin, her facial traits seemingly determined. He knew that he was being an asshole by tripping her into guilt for not trying to get back at the prison, which was what Rick obviously instructed to her, but Daryl hadn't just been able to accept facts she did. Carol had respected the wills of their leader. She did what Rick thought was the best for their community. And even if Dixon knew it was in her, to be so selfless and to put others before herself, he had waited for her to show up in front of that goddamn prison entrance every morning, and every night. And she never did, and he told himself that he would never forgive her for that, for at least trying to change things around. But when he sees her there, so relaxed and relieved to be beside him again, when he feels her hand brushing against the rough skin of his cheeks and pushing some of his dirty strands of hair out of his face, he tells himself that maybe, just maybe, it was more than a miracle. It was an opportunity. A new start. 

" I promise. I'm never leaving you again, Daryl. I swear." She affirms and he snorts when she holds out her tiny pinky. Yet, he reaches for it and links it with his own finger. 

"Ya pinky promises. Y'stuck with me now." He states, more to himself, as if he could barely believe that chunk of information. They stay in silence for a split minute, drowning in each other's presences, communicating through the lack of words like they always did. Carol drags her thumb over his cheekbone surface once again, and despite it being incredibly soothing, Daryl stays entirely alert, chewing down on his bottom lip out of nervousness again. A short chuckle slips off her lips and she pushes on thighs to get back up.

"Come on. You just woke up, you should rest a little more. The doctor should be visiting you soon and I'll come with him, alright?" It's a rhetorical question and Daryl represses the urge of asking her to stay by his sides. He convinces himself that he would probably be able to live a couple of hours without checking on her to see if she was okay after living seven damn years without Carol as she walks out of the tent, giving him one last glance and a timid wave before stretching the nylon parts of fabric and stepping out there in what she'd called "The Kingdom".

Daryl scoffs. A Kingdom, rulled by a King. If you would have told him he'd end up staying at a place where people probably heal cancers with herbs and incantations, he would've told you to fuck off and get lost. 

But he wasn't alone anymore. And he was alive. They weren't ashes, despite how close he'd been to becoming them. And now that Daryl had a reason to live for, he wasn't going anywhere. 

Even if he had to plant tomatoes and sing serenades.

**Author's Note:**

> A simple one-shot that came to me in the middle of the night, as I thought back about how easily Daryl had accepted Carol’s departure in season four. It somehow struck me and I knew that there must had been more to his psychology. 
> 
> That piece was really nice to write, especially the second, lighthearted part of it. The reunion and the pinky promise were so cheesy they might have been a little out of character, but loves softens even the toughest, right?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
